


I'm Kind of an Asshole (But You Love Me For It)

by BellarmyBlake



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Holidays, Everything is happy, F/M, Fluff, Presents, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, bellamy and clarke together, second story:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-06 01:32:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5397866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BellarmyBlake/pseuds/BellarmyBlake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My Bellarke Secret Santa gift to Lana (aka marauders_groupie)! Merry Christmas, darling! Two chapters of Bellarke Christmas fluff. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Kind of an Asshole (But You Love Me For It)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marauders_groupie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauders_groupie/gifts).



> Merry Christmas! I've really enjoyed our time chatting and I hope we may continue to chat now that you know who I am! Enjoy this fluffy fic, and I'm excited to hear what you thought!
> 
> Also, quick thanks to [jiinglebellamy](http://jiinglebellamy.tumblr.com/) aka Kassel who was so kind as to read this over for me when I lost track of what I had written. Thank you sweetie!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve fluff. Heavy Bellarke, light everyone else.

From the moment Bellamy had put his present under the tree, Clarke had been in a state of nervous excitement. Every time she walked past the well-decorated tree in their living room, she’d shoot glances at the enormous box bearing her name and then she’d hug or kiss him ‘just because’. She’d been doing this for three days now.

It makes Bellamy feels kind of guilty.

Kind of.

But not enough to blab the secret of the Big Box. Not quite.

Tonight was Christmas Eve, and because Clarke’s mother had insisted they spent Christmas Day with her and Marcus, they’d made plans with their friends to do Christmas presents on Christmas Eve. In just two hours, the loft would be full of highly energetic, slightly crazy kids – well, he always called them kids – and the fun would begin. Him and Clarke had been in the kitchen since noon, making all sorts of snacks, deserts and an amazing Christmas chicken that was already cooking in the oven, engulfing the entire loft with an amazing smell.

(Only Clarke could make chicken perfectly.)

(He refused to eat chicken anywhere else ever again.)

Stupid, clichéd Christmas tunes were playing softly in the background, and Clarke was humming as she worked, her hips swaying, and Bellamy couldn’t help but stare at her for a few moments. She was so beautiful. She was wearing her baggiest jeans and her oldest tank top, but it suited her perfectly, and he almost wanted to insist on her wearing this tonight. But he also couldn’t say no to seeing her in a dress. She looked fucking _amazing_ in a dress, especially if it was cocktail, and her legs went on forever.

He didn’t realize he was daydreaming until Clarke’s voice broke through his reverie. “Eyes front, soldier.” He started, blinking fast. She was smirking down at the peppers she was slicing. There was a smear of chocolate on her face.

“Sorry.” he said with a smile, and stepped forward. “Forgive me.” he whispered in her ear, and then he licked the chocolate from her skin.

She shivered, but elbowed him away. “Behave, Bell.” she admonished. “They’ll be here in less than two hours, and if they find us naked on the kitchen counter, I will not make this a pleasant Christmas for you.” The words sounded fierce and scary, but her tone was gentle, even a little teasing. He knew she _could_ , but also that she (probably) wouldn’t. She bumped his hip with hers and they chuckled while continuing their cooking activities.

At long last, the chicken was done, his cheesecake was ready to be put in the oven and the finishing touches to the decorations around the house were, indeed, finished. The only thing missing were their friends.

Clarke looked up at him with a smile on her face, and stepped closer. “Look up.” she whispered, her hands landing softly on his chest. He looked up, unable to hide his grin when his eyes fell on the mistletoe hanging over his head.

“Now where did that come from?” he asked while he slipped his arms around her waist.

“I _may_ have put it there. I know you don’t like the cliché, but I do, and I know you like kissing me.”

Bellamy chuckled, shaking his head. He brushed her hair away from her face, and then wound his fingers into it. “That I do.” Kissing her was his own personal high. Her lips were soft, and she tasted like the cheesecake filling she’d licked from the whisk. Her hands clutched at his shoulders when he deepened the kiss, desperate to taste more of her, and a tiny little moan escaped her – which, incidentally, made her even more adorable than she already was. He bumped her nose with his. “I love you, Clarke.” he whispered.

She had her eyes closed, and smiled lazily; he felt her shiver at his words. “Love you, too.”

The great grandfather clock in the entry hall chimed and they jumped apart. He glared at the general direction of the blasted thing – he had put his foot down on having that thing nowhere near where they slept. He hated that clock, but he loved Clarke and her and that clock came as a package deal, so he dealt with it. Most of the time he didn’t even here it anymore. But of course he did when he was deliciously making out with Clarke. Because that clock was seriously his mortal enemy.

(He might be a little overdramatic about the clock.)

(He’ll never admit it, though.)

“I have to change!” Clarke said with a little, quite adorable, gasp as she realized it was only an hour until everyone would be joining them.

Bellamy never quite understood how women managed to take such a long time dressing, but Clarke had once explained to him (very patiently) that there was more to it than just slipping into a dress and done. He’d believed her.

He wandered around the house some, setting the table, making sure the most breakable of their stuff was hidden away from the madness about to ensue. Then he just dropped onto the couch and flicked through the channels without really seeing. He heard some colourful cursing coming from the bedroom every now and then, making him chuckle. When he heard a thud and another curse, he sat up. “Clarke?”

“’M fine.” he heard her mutter, just as there was a knock on the door. “Open up, will you?”

“Don’t _you_ always?” he teased. “You know... _open up_?”

“I will fuck you up, Blake!” she damn-near screeched, pulling a laugh from him as he moved to the door. He’d barely opened it to see who it was, when he was roughly pushed aside, and a short, dark-haired spitfire steamrolled into his apartment. He didn’t even blink, just widened the door more to let in the man behind her, who was looking slightly apologetic.

“Hello, Raven, won’t you please come in?” he said sarcastically, while he shook hands with Wick.

“Shut up, Blake, I’m hungry.” she growled, stepping into the kitchen. “Is Better Blake here, yet?”

“Rave, you’re about half an hour early.” Bellamy said wearily, rubbing his face. Hungry Raven wasn’t a good person to be around. “You’re the first ones, as usual.” He led them to the living room, and Wick made Raven sit down on the couch, which she did with a lot of whining. “I’ll get you a bowl of nuts or something.”

As Bellamy went to fetch something to soothe Raven’s cravings, he made a small detour to the bedroom. “Clarke, your crazy best friend is here.”

“Which one?” Clarke deadpanned from the other side of the door, making them both laugh. “I’ll be right out, I know how to deal with women in her state.”

“Yes, Doctor Griffin.” Bellamy said smiling, before returning to the others. Wick and Raven were arguing loudly about the correct way to disassemble a microwave, which he stopped with the statement that no, they were not going to take apart and reassemble and then take apart _again_ their microwave. They could do that shit at home.

Just as Bellamy was about to give them the heaviest alcoholic drink available to _shut them up_ , the door to the bedroom opened and Clarke appeared. Bellamy’s jaw dropped. She was an absolute vision in a brand new, midnight blue dress. It had silver sparkles all over the fabric, giving the illusion that she was wearing the night sky on her body. “Clarke, you look...” he said, his voice a little breathless. “You’re stunning.”

She blushed prettily, and threw him a saucy wink. Then followed a (tearful, on one side) hug of greeting between the two women. “Oh my God, you’ve grown so much!” Clarke exclaimed, placing a tentative hand on Raven’s sizable tummy.

“Yeah. It appears he’s put twins in me.” Raven said gruffly, shooting daggers at Wick who looked woefully unconcerned about her anger and incredibly proud at the same time.

Clarke shakes her head at her friend’s antics, but says nothing. “You’re way too early, though.”

“Wanted to make sure we were on time.” Raven said, stuffing a handful of peanuts in her mouth.

Clarke pulled Bellamy to the comfy arm chair across from Raven, and made him sit down so she could sit on his lap. He wrapped his arms around her happily, listening to the chatter between Clarke, Raven and Wick as they got caught up.

The time for the others to arrive was nearly here, and he honestly started to feel a bit nervous about the whole thing. He knew she probably wouldn’t be charmed about the first part of his gift, but what would she think of the second (and honestly, most important) part of it? What she would say? It drove him almost mad with curiosity and nervousness.

He was almost glad to have the distraction of 12 crazy kids running around the apartment when they finally showed up. Monty and Miller were the first to arrive, placing a bulk of presents beneath the tree before greeting everyone, followed by Jasper and Maya. His sister and her boyfriend ( _Lincoln_ , Clarke kept sternly reminding him) arrived together with Murphy and Emori, and Clarke momentarily went missing, after which she returned with Wells and Harper in tow, laughing loudly at something Harper clearly said. Monroe and Sterling were the last to arrive, Monroe looking badass with braided hair and leather outfit, and Sterling looking like a lovesick puppy.

Within two minutes, their apartment was packed with people and Clarke and Bellamy were running to and fro to cater to everyone’s drinking needs. Then they invited everyone to come sit at the dining table. No one had to be told twice.

Dinner was a chaotic, but rather enjoyable, affaire. Bellamy was seated across from Clarke, flanked by Murphy and Miller, the latter of whom he had a deep and long conversation with about law enforcement and their rights and limitations. Clarke was immersed in conversation with Wells, but Bellamy and her shared a look every now and then, and he knew she was thinking the same thing. They were surrounded by so many friends, by _family_ , and he couldn’t be happier.

Well...there was one thing.

But that would have to wait until the kids were finally ready for their presents.

It didn’t take long after everyone had their fill of Clarke’s chicken and his cheesecake that Jasper announced loudly that he was wondering what everyone had gotten him. A definite perk of having so many friends was, for everyone, lots of presents. Most couples shopped together, but it still amounted to 6 to 7 presents average per person. It was a really good deal, and Bellamy had usually immensely enjoyed it (he had not forgotten the box with syrup and feathers Murphy gifted him one year; he was always extra careful to open Murphy’s presents now).

Jasper’s exclamation was well-heard, and before they knew it, everyone was seated around the tree, piled on the couches, chairs and the floor, looking excited. Bellamy pulled Clarke on his lap just as Jasper lunged for the first present. Looking pleased, he passed it to Maya, who blushed and grinned as she opened it. It was a beautiful, obviously hand-crafted scarf, and she wrapped it around herself instantly, looking comfy, before kissing Jasper with a smile.

The circle went round and round for a time, everybody opening their presents and thanking their respective gift-givers.

He got a beautiful, first-edition of _The Iliad_ from Clarke, which actually brought tears in his eyes. He’d read the story about a thousand times, but to have the first edition of the _very first_ translated version...that was a privilege. The kids hooted when he kissed her full on the mouth, stretching the kiss far longer than appropriate in present company, and Clarke looked happy when they broke apart. He clutched the book in his hands. “Thank you.” he whispered. “This is the best gift you could’ve given me.”

“I love you, you absolute dork.” she said in response, kissing him again.

“Okay, _moving on_!” said Octavia loudly, snapping them back to attention. She grabbed at the significantly smaller pile of gifts, and his heart simultaneously soared and stopped when she pulled _his_ gift to Clarke from under the tree. “For...Clarke!”

Smiling, Clarke took the box from her. Bellamy swallowed thickly, trying not to let his nerves show. “Feels light,” was all she said before tearing into the paper. A cardboard box emerged, which she opened with excitement in her eyes.

Another, smaller, cardboard box appeared, and everyone laughed, while Clarke rolled her eyes.

The mirth and laughter disappeared however, as she continued to find more, smaller cardboard boxes every time she opened one. He saw Octavia shoot him a disapproving glare, and he tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. He hated the look on Clarke’s face right now; one of utter disappointment. Why had he thought this was a clever idea again?

But then she came to the last box. The last one before the _actual_ present, and he perked up slightly. She sighed as she opened it, and then stilled. A small, elegantly wrapped gift sat on her lap, and she cocked her head, curiosity replacing the disappointment little by little. She opened the gift carefully, and he knew she half-expected another hoax. The small box she held in her hand after the paper had fallen away, however, was not a hoax. Swallowing slightly, she flipped open the lid. He felt her breath catch, and her entire body still.

The silence was deafening. Everyone was staring at the ring glittering on black satin. It was silver, set with a blue gemstone that sparkled when the light caught it.

Bellamy knew this was his moment to act.

He slid Clarke off his lap and gently took the box from her. She just stared at him, open-mouthed and a look of utter befuddlement on her face. He could feel everyone’s held-in breath, as he turned the ring to face her again, and slowly sank to one knee. Behind him, Octavia and Raven gasped. Clarke’s mouth just dropped further. “Clarke...” he said, and his voice caught on the stupid lump in his throat he hadn’t realized was there. He cleared his throat, and tried again, “Clarke. I know I must have pissed you off with that little stunt, but I wanted to make absolutely sure you didn’t know what was inside. Also, I’m a little bit of an asshole.” The group laughed, and even Clarke cracked a shaky smile. “But you love me for that. You...God, Clarke, you showed a no-good son of a bitch what it was like to be loved, and what it is like to feel love so strong as ours for another person. Before you I was a dick. There’s no way around it. Then you swept in and changed _everything_. I’ll be forever grateful for that.” He scanned her face for any indication of a possible response, but found only utter amazement. “And I love you. No matter what your answer will be tonight, I will forever love you. This is why I’m down here, on my knees, to ask you...” Someone sniffled behind him, and he was 200% sure it was Jasper. “To ask you, to make me the happiest man alive. Clarke Griffin, my love...will you marry me?”

Clarke stared at him for quite some time; longer than was comfortable. The floor was hard on his knees. But he stayed anyway. He wouldn’t budge until she had given him an answer. Behind him, he heard some muttering that he found hard to ignore; “ _Say yes, you idiot_.” “ _You know you wanna._ ”

Finally, after a good five minutes, Clarke moved. She leaned forward, and for the first time, he saw tears in her eyes. “Bellamy.” she said, taking his free hand in hers. “You absolute, fucking dork. _Of course_ I’ll marry you. You didn’t have to make an entire heartfelt speech about it.”

But he didn’t even hear the last part. His heart soared, and the group behind him had erupted in cheers, and he burst into _fucking tears_ , because she said _yes_. Paying no heed to the ring in his hand or the people behind him, he surged forward, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her passionately. Her arms wound around his neck, pulling him close. “I love you,” he whispered between kisses, “I love you so much.”

She giggled when they finally pulled apart, a little breathless. “Put it on me then, Blake.” she said softly, extending her left hand to him. With tears in his eyes and a smile on his face, he took the ring from its cushion and gently slid it on her ring finger. It fit _beautifully_ , and for a moment, they both stared at it in wonder and awe.

“God.” she whispered, at the same time he muttered, “Fucking hell.” Then they both laughed, and kissed again, under loud applause of their friends. “This is the best gift ever.” she whispered.

He grasped her hand and felt the ring on her finger, _his_ ring, signalling to everyone that she was his and he was hers, and that they were going to be married. He smiled. “Yes,” he agreed, “Yes, it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt _“i did that annoying thing where i put loads of smaller boxes inside one big box and you’re getting really mad but you don’t know that the ring is in the smallest box and i can’t wait to see your face”._ I hope you liked it!  
>  **  
> **  
>  _Comments and kudos feed my muse, and she's a hungry lass! If you could take a moment, it would make my day!_  
>   
> 


	2. Bellamy Blake is an Asshole (except he's really not)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second and last fic of my gift to Lana. Merry Christmas, sweetie!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research into the American uni/dorm system for this because it’s a mess and it works weird.
> 
> [jiinglebellamy](http://jiinglebellamy.tumblr.com/) aka Kassel is owed another thanks for reading it over for me!

Being home alone had always appealed to Clarke, ever since she’d been a little girl. So when the Christmas holidays had arrived, every single person in the student home had gone back home, and she had the entire house to herself, seeing as she wasn’t planning on going home any time soon. Which meant she could do, sit, stand, walk and eat, where, when and how she wanted, and no one would judge her.

It was the first night and she was making full use of her freedom, by sitting in the communal living room, in her most comfy clothes (a pair of baggy sweatpants, an oversized sweater and, most importantly, _no. bra_ ) and a plate of hot, steaming, delivered pizza on her lap. She was browsing through Netflix, trying to decide if she wanted to watch Jessica Jones or Agent Carter first, and she revelled in the ability to turn up the sound as loud as she wanted, and not have Monty whine in her ear about noise levels, or Raven and Wick yelling through her programmes.

Yeah, she really loves being alone.

She’s just getting into the first episode of Jessica Jones, staring openly at the awesomeness that is Jessica herself (also, the hotness that is Trish Walker, I mean, _wow_ ), and it’s amazing. The surround sound system they have, that she rarely gets to enjoy, really allows for the full theatre experience.

“You know, in the comics, she’s called Jewel first, and Killgrave only comes into the picture later. Not before she gets the costume though.”

Clarke, who had been stuffing her face with an overlarge slice of pizza, started, nearly swallowed the thing whole and started coughing. For a few minutes, she couldn’t focus on anything except the feeling of dying and the need to breath. The person who had scared her so much rushed over and slapped her on the back, until her airways cleared and she could breathe again.

Tears in her eyes, she reached for the remote to pause her show, and then turned to the source of all her trouble. He was tall, dark-haired, freckled, and he was looking down on her with concern written on his face, and she had never seen him before in her life. “Who the _fuck_ are you?” she asked, her voice rough from coughing.

The man raised his brows. “Don’t recognize your RA?”

Clarke raised an unimpressed eyebrow. She’d never bothered to get to know the RA and RD, finding herself perfectly able to take care of herself. “No.”

Bellamy’s raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Well, I haven’t met you, either, I think.” He extended his hand. “I’m Bellamy, Resident Assistant of this lovely home.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, but taking his hand anyway. “Clarke Griffin.”

“Ah, the ever mysterious Clarke I’ve been hearing so much about!” he said, plopping down on the couch beside her. Clarke stared at him. “Octavia practically adores the ground you walk on.”

“You know O?”

Bellamy laughed. “I probably should’ve mentioned my last name? It’s Blake.”

It dawned on Clarke, and she thought she should’ve realized before. He had O’s jaw line, and if you looked closely, the shape of their mouths was practically the same. Not, of course, that she did. “Ah. The brother. She rarely mentions you, to be honest.”

Bellamy laughed, instead of being offended. “I know. She likes to pretend I’m not here, so she can have the best college experience.”

Clarke studied him for a moment, pondering over what to say to the guy who found her in her most unflattering clothes she owned, gorging on pizza, while he looked like he just walked over a fashion catwalk. “So why aren’t you with her?”

“She’s spending her Christmas with her boyfriend’s family in England.” Bellamy said, and there was something akin to distaste in his voice. “I’m glad she’s going out there and seeing more of the world, but...”

“You don’t think Lincoln is good for her.” Clarke finished, smiling.

“Well...I mean, he’s so old.”

“It’s only four years, Bellamy.”

“You sound like her.”

Clarke laughed. “Only because I’ve had the exact same conversation with her, and I was in your position. But I’ve met Lincoln. He’s really nice. He looks intimidating, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Bellamy laid his head on the backrest of the couch, looking at her with amusement. “So, what are you still doing here, Griffin?”

Clarke grimaced. “My mom and I...haven’t been getting along very well. I’ve decided for my own health to stay clear of her for a while.”

That sobered him up a bit, and he frowned. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I like having everything here to myself. Well, I _did_ , anyway.”

“I won’t be in your way much, Princess.” Bellamy said, sneaking a slice of pizza from her plate and jumping out of the way of her punch, laughing. “I got a thesis to finish.” He moved to the door, and looked back while teasingly taking a bite from the pizza. “Oh, and by the way, Trish dies.”

Clarke’s heart sank and her mouth dropped. “Wha- how – you absolute _ass_ , you just spoiled everything?!” she yelled at the closed door, but she could hear him laughing all the way up the stairs. Seething, and with apprehension, she settled back into the couch and rewound the episode a minute.

Bellamy Blake was an ass.

**-BC-**

OK, so Trish _didn’t_ die, and Bellamy Blake was _most definitely_ an ass. Four days into the holidays, and she’d already seen more of him than she even thought of the RA, and every time their paths crossed, he would rile her up so bad it took about an hour to come back down again. They would fight over the silliest things (she had not forgotten the epic fight they had the second night about Dumbledore’s intentions), and it was a relief when Bellamy announced that he was going out to buy a Christmas tree because “we can’t _not_ have a tree, Clarke, it’s _Christmas_ ”.

It was about an hour of quiet that Clarke sorely needed to get her mind straight.

Bellamy Blake was the worst person ever to cross her path, honestly. He pissed her off by just standing in the middle of the room, with that infuriating smirk on his face as he watched her draw, or read, and it was fucking _annoying_.

Except maybe he wasn’t the worst person, not at all, because she’d never had such fun talking about topics that interested her, because even though Bellamy loved to get a rise out of her, he usually agreed with her, or didn’t mind her different opinion. He was considerate and kind, as witnessed when she woke up the third morning and he was cooking breakfast for two without her even asking – he’d noticed her lack of healthy breakfasts in the mornings before, and was not standing for it.

Later, she figured out he practically raised O all by himself and she understood him a little better.

“Clarke, come and help me a minute!” she heard Bellamy grunt from the hallway.

Rolling her eyes, Clarke set her sketchbook aside and went to the hall – where she promptly froze on the spot. “Oh, _Bell_.” she sighed, exasperatedly.

The tree he was trying to heave into the small hallway was _enormous_. At least as tall as the ceiling in the living room (which was, truthfully, rather high), and she had absolutely no idea why he would get such a monstrosity. Bellamy scowled at her. “Shut up, and help me carry this in.”

“Why would you even – ?”

“Christmas is a big deal, Griffin.” Bellamy said with a roll of his eyes, which Clarke mimicked before she helped pushing the tree through the hallway and into the living room, leaving a trail of needles behind.

Once they’d finally gotten it in its proper place, Clarke looked up at it towering over her (a feat not hard to manage, as almost anything could tower over her), and sighed again, “Oh, _Bell_.”

Bellamy snorted. “You sound like my sister.” Clarke shot him an exasperated sideways glance, and he sighed, too. “Yeah, I know. I might’ve gone a little too overboard.”

Clarke smiled a little at the dejection in his voice; he really must treasure Christmas a lot. “Come on.” she said, tugging his arm. “Let’s see what we can find for decorations.”

**-BC-**

Turns out, a house with six people and an RA has a _lot_ of Christmas decorations. Besides the old stuff from previous students they found in the basement, every single person had a box in their room filled with Christmas things. Clarke and Bellamy decided to use it all, and damned be the consequences.

They spent a lot of time untangling all of the lights, where Bellamy teased Clarke mercilessly when she got her hair all tangled up in one particularly nasty string, and where Clarke flat-out laughed at him when he got his feet stuck between two strings and fell flat on his face. All in all, they had a fun time.

Putting up the decorations itself was not such a chore, at least not until they got to the higher levels of the tree. At first the managed with the chairs fairly well, but the top most layer didn’t have any lights or decorations yet, not to mention the star that belonged on top of the tree and neither one of them could reach it from the chair, even on their tiptoes.

“Climb on my shoulders.” Bellamy said casually, looking up at her.

She nearly toppled over from where she was balancing on her tiptoes, and Bellamy’s hands flew out to steady her. “ _What_?”

“Climb on my shoulders.” At her incredulous look, he laughed. “Come on, I’ve carried O lots of times, you can’t weigh much more than her.”

Clarke knew, for a fact, that he weighed more than Octavia (they talked about weight, diets and food a lot, so sue them), but didn’t mention it. “If I break my neck doing this, I will come back and haunt you for the rest of your life.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes and turned his back to her, holding up his hands for her to grab. “C’mon, hop on.”

Uncertain about this entire thing, Clarke grabbed his hands (they were big, and _warm_ , and their grip on her was like iron), and swung one leg over his shoulder. “Ready?” she asked.

He braced himself, bent his knees so she could get on easily, and nodded. “Ready.”

She pushed off and swung her other leg over his shoulder, and suddenly she was sitting on his neck, the top of her head nearly brushing the ceiling, and he was swaying a little. “You okay?” she asked.

He turned to the tree, and switched his grip from her hands to her legs . “Fine. Just put up that star quickly.”

Smirking a little, Clarke leaned forward slightly, fitted the star on top, and clapped her hands excitedly. “Done!”

It was another matter entirely of coming down from this position. Bellamy grabbed her hands, and surprised her by lifting her clean off his shoulders (it wasn’t entirely effortless, she could feel his muscles trembling) and slowly lowering her in front of him. His arms gave out just before she hit the ground, and she squealed as she fell. His arms went around her instantly, preventing her from hitting the floor too hard.

So now she was leaning against his chest, that was heaving up and down, and revelling in the warmth of his arms and the breadth of his torso against her back. “Thanks.” she said, a little out of breath.

“Not a problem.” he muttered in her ear.

They stayed like that for longer than was strictly appropriate and Clarke felt _confused_. Why was he still holding her? Why was she still allowing him to? Why was she _enjoying_ it? “So,” she said, stepping out of his arms quickly, “what do you think?” She looked up at their tree, which was a mess of all sorts of decorations, differently coloured lights and way too big for a student house. It was pretty though; it brought a Christmas feeling into the house that she hadn’t really felt up till then.

“I think it’s beautiful.” Bellamy said, looking up at the tree with a satisfied smile. “We make a good team, Griffin.”

She smiled at him. “That we do.”

**-BC-**

Christmas Day arrived, and both of them were grumpy. Clarke because this day reminded her of her dad, and because her mother had called _again_ , imploring her to come to this ridiculous fundraiser, because “I met Mr. Jackson’s son a while ago, and he is _such_ a charming fellow, you really must meet him”. No, thank you. Clarke had had enough dealings with her mom’s friend’s sons to last a lifetime (she had not forgotten the disaster that was Cage Wallace; she still got the creeps just thinking about that).

Bellamy because this was his first Christmas without his sister, and apparently he was completely clueless as to how a person spends Christmas alone. He paced around the room, tidying up, placing and replacing stuff on the table, and basically pissing Clarke off.

“Bellamy, will you _stop_ moving my stuff everywhere?!” Clarke bellowed when she had been searching for her laptop only to find it in the bookcase where she had _not_ left it.

Bellamy snarled angrily. “I’m sorry, but you leave it at the most random places!”

“This is a _shared_ room, I am inviting you to stay to your own room if you don’t like it!”

He opened his mouth to reply, but instead he sighed and sunk down on the couch. “I know, you’re right. I’m sorry, I just...I don’t know how to do Christmas without my sister.”

Clarke moved to the couch, placing her laptop on the coffee table and sat down beside him. “Yeah, that’s obvious.”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve been the poster child of Christmas spirit today.”

Clarke smiled sadly. “I know.”

Silence stretched between them, neither of them knowing what to say. Clarke played with a stray string dangling from her sweater to distract herself from the awkwardness. Suddenly, Bellamy jumped up, his eyes twinkling. “Alright, we can’t spend Christmas being Johnny Rainclouds. We are going out, we are buying ourselves an amazing Christmas dinner which we will prepare and then we will watch stupid sappy Christmas movies and cry.” He held out his hand in invitation. “What do ya say, Griffin? Wanna celebrate Christmas with a grumpy old granddad in the body of a 24 year old?”

Clarke laughed, taking his hand. “Sure, granddad. Let’s do it.”

**-BC-**

Turned out Bellamy Blake could cook a mean turkey dinner, and combined with her rosemary spiced fried potatoes, they had a blast cooking and, more importantly, eating the food. The turkey was tender and the spices he used to flavour it were perfectly balanced, and basically, Clarke moaned when she took that first bite. Bellamy looked a little funny at that, but kept his mouth shut.

All in all, they had a wonderful dinner, during which they talked about nothing in particular, getting to know each other. Clarke discovered that Bellamy Blake was a _huge_ history nerd, and that he was writing his dissertation about Greek Mythology, focussing on the story of Persephone in particular. When asked, he told her the story, and she listened with bated breath as his deep voice gave colour and life to the tales she’d once so loathed in high school.

After washing the dishes together, they made hot chocolate and moved to the couch, starting up The Muppets’ Christmas Carol. They started out side by side, a respectable distance away, but by the time the Ghost of Christmas Past had come and gone, Clarke had moved her feet into his lap, snuggling under the blanket that covered them both, while he absentmindedly rubbed his hands over them to warm them. It felt oddly domestic, sitting like this, and Clarke noticed she’d become distracted by the strokes of hand and the warmth of his body.

By the time the credits rolled in, she had her head comfortably placed on his shoulder, and his arm was thrown casually around her, and it was _good_. “Merry Christmas, Bell.” she said softly, looking up at him. He was looking at her, too, and his dark eyes were soft, gleaming in the lights from the tree.

“Merry Christmas, Clarke.”

She didn’t know how it happened, or who moved first, but suddenly, she was sitting up and his lips were on hers and her arms were around his neck, and they were _kissing_. Like, full-blown making out. Normally Clarke would’ve pulled away, been embarrassed or angry. That would be sane, daytime Clarke. Right now, she was engulfed in the best kiss of her existence, and she wasn’t about to let it go.

She moved into his lap and deepened this kiss, licking his lips to ask for entrance, which he gladly gave her. She explored gently, but hungrily, licking into him, meeting his tongue, which in turn explored, too. It was glorious. Time seemed to freeze around them. The Ghost of Christmas Present’s goodbye song faded to white noise. All she could focus on was his body against hers, his lips on his, and his arms around her waist.

“What are we doing?” Bellamy whispered when they came up for much needed air. Clarke pressed her forehead against his, not willing to break this moment.

“I don’t know.”

“Want to stop?”

“ _Hell_ no.” she sighed, moving in for another kiss. Belatedly, she realized that she hadn’t asked him the same question, but by the way he was kissing her back (he was setting her blood on fire), she gathered he very much _didn’t_ want to stop.

The credits ended, the screen went blue, and the only sound in the house was their harsh breathing, mixed with the sounds of two people only just figuring out the art of kissing each other. They giggled and laughed a lot, when their noses bumped or he hit his forehead against her jaw when he went to kiss her neck, but it was alright.

What felt like hours later, they were lying on the couch, Bellamy’s head on her chest, her fingers carting through his soft locks, both breathing slowly. His hand had slipped beneath her sweater at one point and was lying warmly upon the bare skin of her side – he had not moved it higher ( _yet_ ). “What just happened?” Clarke suddenly asked, staring at the ceiling.

Bellamy turned his head, leaning his chin on her chest to look up at her. “I think we just had a make-out session.”

“We’ve known each other for six days.”

Bellamy snorted. “We made out. We’re not getting married.”

Clarke laughed at that, too. Because yeah, she might be overthinking this a little. “I don’t regret it, though.”

Bellamy nuzzled the junction of her shoulder and her neck. “Me neither.”

“Wanna go again?”

He smirked. “Yes, please.”

**-BC-**

They spent the rest of the holiday cooped up inside, making out, watching Christmas movies and the entire Star Wars series (there was a new movie out, they _had_ to before seeing that one).

He kissed her when fireworks exploded over their heads on when 2015 became 2016. They had sex that very same night (though Clarke would better describe it as making love – though she would never say that out loud, ever).

**-BC-**

When the last day before the start of the semester arrived, and everyone was due to be back soon, Clarke didn’t know what they had become. They’d gone from strangers to friends to what felt like lovers, but she was hesitant to name it to him. Maybe he just thought they were friends with benefits. Heck, maybe he thought she was just a good lay.

All those thoughts drove her damn near mad.

They were lying on the couch together, Star Wars VI playing in the background, her lying on top of him, and his fingers combing through her hair gently, when Bellamy suddenly spoke. “Hey, Clarke?”

“Mmm?” she murmured, watching Han draw out a Stormtrooper like a twelve year old.

“Will you go out with me after the holiday is over?”

Clarke sat up quickly, the movie quite forgotten, and stared at him. “...what?”

“You know? On an actual date? Dinner, a movie, maybe a goodnight kiss on the porch?”

She stared at him for a while. “Wha- you want to go on a date with me?”

“More than one if possible?” he said, looking extremely uncertain about the whole situation, and growing more uncertain by the second as she remained quiet and staring at him. Clarke had difficulty processing everything. He wanted to go out with her? He really did? She wasn’t just a good fuck for him to enjoy over the lonely holidays? “Clarke?” he said after two minutes of complete silence.

Clarke shook her head to clear it of all confusion and broke into a grin like she hadn’t felt on her face for a very long time. “Yes. I would love to go on a date with you sometime, Bell.”

Bellamy’s entire face lit up like the Christmas tree behind him, and he leaned in to plant a kiss firmly on her lips. “Awesome.” he breathed, before going in for another kiss. She brought her arms around his neck, pulling herself up and closer to him, into him. His arms wound around her, holding her close, deepening the kiss.

“Happy New Year, everyo – _OH!_ ”

Clarke scrambled to her feet so fast she almost toppled off the couch. She grabbed Bellamy shirt to hold her upright, even as she turned to look at the person who had just come into the living room with a lot of noise.

Octavia stood in the doorway, her mouth open, her eyes big and staring. They all stared at each other for a moment, before Octavia’s entire face transformed into something akin to _absolute glee_. “ _Raven!_ ” she screeched, and both Clarke and Bellamy groaned. _Oh no,_ Clarke thought, _not both of them_. “Raven, it’s happened! It’s happened, they’re doing it on the couch right now!”

“ _Gross, tell them to stop immediately!_ ”

“O, we’re not – ” Bellamy said grumpily, sitting up. “For God’s sake, we not doing _it_ right now!”

Raven entered the room at that, and stared at the two of them with obvious glee in her eyes. “ _Finally_ , you two.”

Clarke frowned. “But – but, how...?”

Octavia rolled her eyes as she carried her stuff inside. “Raven and I have been trying to get you two to hook up for _ages_. Grumpy history nerd and overly serious art nerd, it was just meant to be.”

Bellamy and Clarke stared at each other for a moment, before Bellamy fell backwards with a groan. “My sister is the worst.”

Clarke laughed. “She was right, though.”

Bellamy’s arms tightened around her again, and he looked up to her with a radiant smile. “Yeah. That she was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on the prompt _“we don’t know each other but we’re the only two people staying in this dorm/apartment/town for the holiday au”_  
>  **  
>  _Comments and kudos feed my muse, and she's a hungry lass! If you could take a moment, it would make my day!_  
>  **  
> 


End file.
